


glee

by levihans



Category: Glee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crack, F/F, F/M, Gay, Genderbending, Glee AU, High School, Humor, Lesbian Character, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levihans/pseuds/levihans
Summary: In which Kim Namjoon is the class president who also has an alter-ego Rap Monster who is also threatened by Bang Shihyuk to start a glee club, Kim Seokjin is gay, Jung Hoseok only has one working leg, Park Jimin is the school's quarterback, Min Yoongi sells weed, and Taehyung and Jungkook might be secret lesbian cheerleaders. Also known as Glee AU Bangtan Sonyeondan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolute crap, probably wrote it when I was high. But please send some love xx or tell me if I should continue xx

Namjoon weighs his options in his head. How exactly would a glee club survive in Seung Ri High School? He's barely struggling to stay alive in the second bottom tier of the hierarchy, with only the pathetic label of _Class President_ to keep his ass from being whipped by the jocks in football. From across the desk, Principal Bang is tapping his fingers impatiently against the table to an indistinct rhythm. Namjoon has an irrational desire to seize a marker from the stationery holder and draw his best illustration of a penis between the older man’s furrowed brows. Fortunately, the sane part of him decides against it, and he folds his hands over his lap instead, lips quivering. 

 

It all began half an hour ago, when the principal called him into his office and gave him pretty much a cardiac arrest by greeting him as _Rap Monster_. You see, Rap Monster is Namjoon’s alter ego on Soundcloud, the one that produces mixtapes and writes his own rap lyrics about love, passion and whatever romanticist bullshit that happens out there in the world. Namjoon, on the other hand, is the quiet class president who never hands up homework late and possesses an IQ level of 148 to boast of. It is definite that Rap Monster is an identity meant to be kept secret, even from people who are closest to Namjoon, much less the goddamn school principal.

 

“…excuse me?”, he had croaked weakly. Apparently, Mr Bang turned out to be a closet hiphop enthusiast and it was just Namjoon’s _immense_ luck that the former had chanced upon his newest upload last weekend under the ‘homemade mixtapes’ tag. That same weekend, Namjoon had also stupidly changed his display picture to one of his more flattering selcas before chickening out after two hours. Just his immeasurable, extensive, _boundless_ luck that the principal clicked on his profile page during that damned span of time. 

 

“What Seung Ri High needs is an edge. Something new. Something _refreshing._ Every year, less than sixty percent of our students make it to a local university. Our performing arts department is in a slump. The drama club can’t even sustain itself with its membership of what, five? Baseball is shutting down next year if they fail to make it to the preliminaries again. And…our football team pretty much remains at the bottom of the nation.”

 

Namjoon snorted under his breath. “For the past sixteen years.”

 

“Our only saving grace is the cheerleading team. But there is so much untapped potential in this school and I want to make it great again, especially during the period of my principalship; and you, Namjoon, are the only one who’s capable of helping me do so.”

 

“Sir, I’m sorry but why me? I’m just a kid trying to get out of high school alive and like, get into college, you know.”

 

“Well, I’m sure that if I leak the news of your alternate identity as a worshipped rapping god on Soundcloud to your schoolmates, you will not be able to accomplish that.”

 

“Wait, are you threatening me —” 

 

“Do I not have the authority to do that?” Mr Bang rested his arms on the chair in a manner that resembled a mafia boss’. “Do you not see the number of times we’ve had to cut down on toilet paper usage? The school is running on a dangerously low budget. I can’t just call in some professional music instructor and start up a glee club. We need to make do with what we have; and you, my student, possess the ability to produce and direct music.”

 

Namjoon gulped, momentarily haunted by memories of nightmarish, toilet-paper-less bathroom adventures. “I just really don’t see what’s in it for me.”

 

“Listen, you fool. We are living in the twenty-first century here. It’s _dynamic_ and it’s treacherous. You’re intelligent, you score straight A’s and so what? There are thousands of students out there who are just as academically inclined as you are. What makes you think that with just that, Seoul University is definitely going to enrol you? Colleges do not just look at grades, they assess their applicants _holistically_. Directing a glee club is going to spice up that testimony. Think _leadership, performing arts skills, accolades, achievements._ Plus, if you’re not going to accept my offer, I’ll help in nourishing your friends with the knowledge of your secret online identity. You can’t sue me for that.”

 

 

Namjoon thinks his options over and over. The principal has a point. Apart from his duties as the class president and the school’s trusty librarian, there is not much else he can offer to impress the top-tier colleges in Seoul. The assholes from Football and Baseball are going to give him so much shit for it, though; and whatever little chances he’s had of dating a below-average-looking girl from like the _Go Chemistry!_ club or something, not even the hotties from Cheerleading, will pretty much self-destruct once he commits himself to the glee club. No female wants to go out with a loser from the bottom of the social hierarchy. 

 

Sihyuk leans backward. “With your hesitation, I guess I’m just going to drop the _Rap Monster_ bomb first thing during assembly tomorrow…”

 

“No, sir — I mean, fine. I will do it, but I can’t promise it will turn out fine. Glee’s not really… the thing in trend right now.”

 

“Well, the Americans are crazy over this glee thing. I can’t wait for you guys to clinch Nationals and make Seung Ri High great again!” the older man claps his palms together, eyes washed over with the look of a madman’s. Namjoon almost wants to slap the principal out of his farfetched dream, but not more than he wants to just leave the office and into the safety of pretty much any other place on the planet. Clearing his throat, he asks meekly, “So can I leave now?”

 

“Put up sign-up sheets on the school board first thing tomorrow. You can leave now, _Rap Monster._ ”

 

A pitiful noise that sounds like the in-between of a donkey’s honk and a puppy’s cry escapes the younger boy’s mouth before he scrambles out of the godforsaken room. 

* * *

Namjoon doesn’t dare to check on the sign-up sheets he placed very discreetly on the school board in the morning. In fact, he reached school an hour early just so that nobody could catch him pinning those papers up. Every time he walks past the board to get to another class, he feels as though his soul is sucked out of his physical body over and over, through and through. Jackson, his best friend, takes every opportunity to question the anxious look on the other student’s face. The latter merely shrugs it off.

 

Namjoon lies to the Hongkonger that he has to stay back for extra classes. In actuality, he simply intends to mope around until the entire student body has gone home so that he can look through the names on the sheets, if there are any at all. He does this in the sanctuary of the school library, specifically at the table he always frequents in the far left corner. When he has finally completed the tutorial on Thermodynamics and research paper due only two weeks later, it’s already seven in the evening. He takes it as sign to go down, grab the sheets in the swiftest movement he can manage and hurry the fuck back home. 

 

His heart sinks when he looks at the papers. Two names, not too bad. A _Jung Hoseok_ and a _Kim Seokjin._ The surrounding blank canvas is however scrawled over with numerous homophobic slurs. What the hell is so gay about show choir anyway? Or maybe it’s just explicitly directed towards Seokjin, the only openly homosexual individual in school. Namjoon doesn’t know much about him except that even the air around him screams _gay_ , and that he’s really pretty, with a face accentuated by the most exquisite feminine features. The kind of guy that would do really well in a typical Korean boy group, not in a high school chock full of judgmental assholes ( _especially_ the ones from Football, Namjoon just has to emphasise on that).

 

However, Hoseok is someone Namjoon is at least acquainted with. They share English and Chemistry classes together and probably exchanged like five whole sentences in their past year of camaraderie. The memory of it makes him shudder.

 

_Namjoon: Hello, Hoseok, do you have a pencil?_

_Hoseok: Nope, but I have a non-working leg._

_Namjoon: No, shit, I did not mean it like that —_

_Hoseok: I’m kidding, HAHAHAHA! Here’s the pencil._

 

Alright, make that four and a half sentences. Hoseok is paralysed in one leg and therefore requires a wheelchair to get around. In the early part of last year, the footballers had toppled him and his wheelchair over inside a locked toilet cubicle. Thankfully, Hoseok’s parents made a huge fuss about it and once the bullies received their due punishment, nobody dared to touch him anymore, albeit the occasional discrimination against disabled individuals. 

 

Namjoon has always had a good impression of Hoseok. If the former weren’t such a coward, he’d have extended an amicable hand and become friends with the latter. However, Kim Namjoon has a tendency to stay away from trouble. I mean, after all that’s happened, no one can blame him for that right? His past will be saved for another time, another story.

 

How is a glee club going to survive with its current, potential measly membership of three? Heck, Namjoon can’t even sing. He probably will only choose to worry himself with the music direction and production, the dynamics, acoustic backbone, harmony of voices. Show choirs don’t rap, for Christ’s sake. That only happens in stupid American sitcoms. Korean show choir is all dramatic ballads and impossibly high notes. Korean show choir is dead.

 

Dance moves are going to be another problem. Namjoon can’t even handle swaying to a slow song. He just looks like a stiff banana moving robotically side to side. Defeatedly, he bangs his head against his bedroom table, the principal’s threat fresh at the fore of his mind.

 

Auditions will be held next Thursday.

* * *

Namjoon cannot decide if he loves or hates Jackson. Granted, the Hongkonger punctuates the Korean’s rather dreadful school life with bursts of foolish teenage humour and nostril-flared laughter, but sometimes he can just be such a goddamn pain in the ass. Like now, when he’s making Namjoon go to the footballers’ locker room to pass some assignment thing to the kid named Jimin. Jimin’s the quarterback of the school’s football team, a figure of envy since he’s managed to snatch such a position even though he’s only in his second year. 

 

You may think that if the footballers were all assholes then Jimin would be The Assholes of All Assholes. However, you thought wrong. The younger boy is probably the most sheepish creature humankind has _ever_ had the honour of chancing upon. Always smiling and laughing things off, even when his own teammates couldn’t take him seriously. His looks, which are a crossbreed between The Nice Cute Guy That No One Can Hate and The Loser Geek Who Lives Next Door, are often debated about. No one can decide if he’s ugly or hot. Nevertheless, his girlfriend is still nothing less than the hottest cheerleader in school — Jeon Jungkook. (read: Namjoon hates to admit this, but he’s gotten off a multiple times to the image of Jungkook jumping on his cock but I mean, every other guy in this school probably has.) His arguably great appearance, athletic talent and likeable personality are very much wasted on Seung Ri High, Namjoon thinks.

 

Begrudgingly, Namjoon snags the thick stack of paperwork from Jackson’s hands and stomps towards the locker room, determined to get this trivial request done and over with. He hates the footballers with the burning passion of a thousand suns and nothing repulses him more than stalking into their locker room and inhaling the scent of their asshole-ry. 

 

The place is overwhelmed with the pungent smell of sweat and deodorant aftereffects. Namjoon wants to die. Instead of taking the next course of action to fulfil his suicidal desires, which is by the way to grab the nearest knife and stab himself right in the chest, he asks weakly, “Is Jimin here?”

 

One of them rolls his eyes and gestures towards the bathroom. Namjoon lowers his head meekly and saunters between the males whose lower halves are donned in white towels. The bathroom is empty, save one occupied cubicle which the non-footballer assumes must be Jimin’s. Just as he is about to call out the latter’s name, he is pleasantly interrupted by a beautiful voice singing Taeyang’s Only Look At Me. Nasal and unpolished, yes; but still very pretty. 

 

_Even if I cheat, don’t you ever cheat, baby_

_Even if I forget you, don’t you ever forget me, lady_

_If once in a while I don’t contact you and I go out for a drink,_

_Even if I meet another girl’s gaze,_

_Look only at me_

 

A plan forms in Namjoon’s head.

 


End file.
